


Number 26122594

by Galysh



Series: The Dragon Slayer [1]
Category: Tales of Berseria, Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Aifread makes a brief appearance, Dragon Slayer! AU, F/M, The Abbey's A+ parenting, Velvet Crowe (mentioned), Zaveid-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 00:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21235028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galysh/pseuds/Galysh
Summary: The egg cracks one sunrise, in the eighth month of the year. It takes the nest by surprise, sends them scurrying about in a panic. After all there is early, and then there is weeks ahead of schedule. A nest mother sends the required missive to the Abby, but it's still hours before one of their lore keepers trudges his way up to the Craigs. In fact by the time the human makes an appearance, he's already found himself a soft pillow to snuggle against. At least, that's what they tell him. It's not as if he remembers that far back.





	Number 26122594

**Author's Note:**

> It's October, have some angst. 
> 
> The way I calculate Malak Cherub ages is 33.33 years for 1 human year. So 5 year old, Zaveid is already well over 1 century.  
This was partly brought on by the season, partially because I was curious what the Abbey would have called Zav. I doubt they're the ones that named him that. 
> 
> The MCD, occurs off screen because I am weak.

**1500 BCS**

The egg cracks one sunrise, in the eighth month of the year. It takes the nest by surprise, sends them scurrying about in a panic. After all there is early, and then there is weeks ahead of schedule. A nest mother sends the required missive to the Abby, but it's still hours before one of their lore keepers trudges his way up to the Craigs. In fact by the time the human makes an appearance, he's already found himself a soft pillow to snuggle against. At least, that's what they tell him. It's not as if he remembers that far back. They tell him many things that he recalls not. About how his first words were sung, and that time he'd tried to fly when he barely knew how to walk. He's not sure he believes them, his earliest memories are of a much different nature. 

He remembers the wind in his feathers, it's true, and the view from atop the Craigs. More than that though, he remembers the soothing song of the mountain breeze in his ears. 

He's five summers old, when they force him to learn his name. Before that, he'd been a variety of things, usually eaglet or chicklet. The new one is hissed out around a stalk of tobacco by a human more than three times his size. Though he hears the numbers, he ignores them easily enough, too busy wriggling his fingers next to the cold metal they've attached to his ankles. It pinches at the skin and he doesn't like it. They're clang loudly and he walks funny with them on, stumbles over rocks were before he'd been able to bound. 

It takes him only two days and the helpful hint of a nest mother to realize that if he answers when they shout the numbers, he's less likely to receive a smack from the leather straps. It takes a lot longer for the numbers to stick in his head, there are a lot of them and he struggles to say them right. The humans aren't as patient as the nest mothers who teach him his letters, they like to yell and wave their ham sized fists around. He learns to fly in narrow tunnels, when his feet hurt too much to walk. He learns not to wince when ham sized fists leave bruises on his skin. He learns to see the Abbey through the heavy weight of a wooden mask. 

He's twelve summers old, the first time he leaves the safety of the Abbey. Another cherub, a small fire malak, goes with him. It's a simple assignment, but it's the most fun he's had in since he began training, and he forgets himself. In a moment of careless folly, he removes the mask, and wanders the town. The dried meat he eats is too salty and yet tastier than anything he thought possible. He ignores the little cherub that dogs his heels, once the boy proves to be uninterested in exploring. He completes the assignment in a timely manner and returns with his head held high. The humans do not see it his way. He limps for weeks afterwards. 

After that, he keeps the mask on. Always. Inside, visiting the chicklets. Outside, on assignments. Everywhere. The memory of that first assignment refuses to fade, not even when he shoves it down into the depths of his soul, it insists on slipping into his rare dreams. 

He's sixteen summers old, when he first sees her. The blood sticks to his gloves, drips down his skin, and makes a general nuisance of itself. The body lies still and very dead under his feet, but he finds himself rooted in place. He thinks that she might be the prettiest Eolian, he's ever encountered. Tall and loud, she's surrounded by little cherubs of varying elements. She herds them down the streets with terrifying ease. It's rather endearing, how they all crowd her and call for her attention. 

He forgets about her by the next sunrise, too busy drowning in blood and confusion. The nest mothers screams haunt his dreams until he learns how to forgo sleep all together. He still sees them when he flies around the Craigs, so he ceases to go. 

He ceases to do a lot of things, his mission load increases as he adds more inches to his wingspan. He encounters her again, one sunny morning as he drags his latest assignment to the local outpost. She stands in the sun and nods his way with a bright smile. The surprise is strong enough that he fumbles his prey, and has to chase after it. Ever since the massacre, his fellow eolians flee his presence, her greeting befuddles him. She becomes a regular presence when he reports in at all hours, always ready with a quip or teasing comment. Through trial and error, he learns that her name is Theodora. She hits him when he expresses confusion and asks for her actual name. So, he chalks it up to her having been raised in a different Abbey. 

Still, when she asks for his, he gives it readily enough. The numbers slip out while he's still elbow deep in a cow, and so he misses her facial expression. He flings intestines her way when she asks if he goes by any other, it seems only fair. 

He's halfway through his sixteenth year according to the Abbey's calendar, when she asks if she can call him Zaveid, she claims that his real name is too much of a mouthful for her to pronounce regularly. His feathers bristle uncomrfably, but he says yes anyway, and her smile makes everything worth it. He grows accustomed to hearing that name from her, she's the only one who uses it, and that's okay. 

He still introduces himself by his name, when others press into his business. It seems to be what they expect. He upgrades his mask, picks up white seals one summer, and kills his first wyvern. At least that's what the report says, it's not like he remembers. One morning, he sees Theodora speaking with a Fire Malak. He approaches, feathers beginning to bristle though he's unsure why. The newcomer greets him like they're old friends, but he has no recollection of ever meeting him. He says as much and the Malak laughs, seeming unbothered by it. Theo frowns at him though, her own wings shift restlessly. 

Seven months go by before he sees her again. As usual, she's full up with cherubs and children. He loans her a hand and smiles. It's easy. Theodora makes the solid lump in his chest beat harder and harder, until he grips it just to ensure that it stays in his body. He enjoys her presence, and though the missions continue to weigh heavy, he finds that coming home is nice. 

He runs away from the Abbey shortly after his nineteenth birthday. It's an act, he commits on a whim. Stupid, foolish, but ultimately worth it. Theo tracks him to a volcano, and sits besides him until he works up the courage to take off the mask. She kisses him under a moonless sky, and he laughs. 

He swaps masters, swaps Abbeys, swaps masks, yet Theodora is a constant that never fades. He forgets things and learns others. He kisses Theodora under the festival bridge where the Abbey won't see, and she teaches him how to braid hair. He teaches her charges how to count, and she teaches him how to write. For awhile, he forgets about the Abbey and Craigs. It's nice. 

He meets the human while on an assignment far from Theodora and the children. The human changes things with a boisterous laugh and a heavy hand that knocks the fog clean out of his head. For the first time in years, he finds himself without his mask, at the mercy of a creature that could kill him, and he hates it. Despises the fact, that he's feels afraid of humans again. The human lets him go, tells him kindly that he doesn't kill his kind, and disappears. He remains on the ground for hours, stares at his broken mask, until his wings can't handle the strain anymore. 

He's well into his sixth century, when he meets the group of chaotic misfits. They've got a cherub with them and he bristles automatically, concern for the little one harshening his words. Though he is far from Theodora's influence, he feels her protective instincts urging him to secure the cherub. He forgets all of that when the earthern goes for his throat, with a heavy swing that reminds him of the human that broke his mask. It pisses him off. He fights harder than he has in years, and slowly the anger fades to enjoyment. He flares his wings and tosses out comments just to see the earthern snarl. 

The human with the blood-thirsty hand destroys both of them. A loss is a loss, so he helps with their little barrier problem. It's not difficult after all, he's known how to dismantle them since his second century. The earthern confiscates the gun which irritates him, but he gives his name anyway. It's the first time that he reads pity in another Malaks eyes. He chooses to retreat instead of punching it off the frowning face. 

He forgets what it's like to live without Theodora and her eternal posy of children. He takes her presence for granted, trusts her when she says that she's got no plans to leave. It's a mistake. He ignores the warning signs, the way his domain and blessing feels weaker when he sleeps besides her. The darkness and anger that sometimes brews in their children's eyes. He forgets the feeling of blood soaking into his skin, it's not needed, he doesn't serve the Abey anymore. He forgets that Theo still reports to a higher power. 

After close to two hundred years of her presence, he loses her not to the Abbey or to a hellion, but to another Malak. An earthern that speaks of death as if its salvation, and hides his own turbulent thoughts behind icy walls.

He learns how to live without her.

  * It hurts.

He starts wearing a necklace, no one looks at him twice when he scratches his neck. The phantom feeling of chains is still there, but the warm leather is a shield in its own way. 

  * It's comforting.

He learns how to lie. 

  * It's easier than he expects.

He learns how to protect himself from the humans. He stops using the Abbey's name for him. It's not a name, he knows that now. 

  * It's hard. 

He learns how to laugh again. 

  * The cherubs trust him swifter when he smiles at them first.

He relearns how to kill. 

  * It's harder the second time, memories resurfacing until sleep ceases to be a necessity.

He learns how to love again. 

  * It hurts just as much the second time. 


End file.
